‘Forgive this intrusion, ma’am, I beg. Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces. While the cloth was laid, the host and Thames descended to the cellar, whence they returned, laden with a number of flasks of the same form, and apparently destined to the same use as those depicted in Hogarth's delectable print—the Modern Midnight Conversation. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. She had removed her hat and utterly disarranged her already unruly black locks by running agitated fingers through them. Having worked thus for another quarter of an hour without being sensible of fatigue, though he was half stifled by the clouds of dust which his exertions raised, he had made a hole about three feet wide, and six high, and uncovered the iron bar.
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